Waiting to Death
by CrazyMetalhead
Summary: He decided it was his own fault that if he hadn't been acting like a child, he wouldn't be sitting, handcuffed to a table waiting to be killed by the allies. Maybe he would be able to survive if he stopped acting like a helpless child, a baby with a man's body. That was when something in his mind snapped, or perhaps, something clicked. A snapped!Italy fanfic.
1. Chapter 1

Waiting to Death

Prologue 

Italy sat in the padded cell, his arms bound by a strait jacket, thinking about how he got there. The memories were blurry, even though less than a week had passed since it happened. It was almost as if he wasn't himself when he did it. Italy was snapped out of the few scenes from it he was playing over in his head when his door opened. Germany walked into the cell, causing Italy to remember all of it. After all, Germany was the cause of it.

_Italy had been captured by England yet again. He had been interrogated. He wanted to know where Germany and Japan were, and why they weren't at their homes. Italy didn't want to betray his friends, but when a gun was pointed at his head, he explained everything. Once he was done talking, England took him into another room and handcuffed him to the table. He then left the room to call his allies and tell them the story._

"Hi Italy," Germany said, sitting down next to Italy almost timidly. He wasn't going to admit it anytime soon, but he was scared of the Italian now. Italy didn't answer, and after a minute or so, Germany began talking again. "Look, I'm sorry for not coming to get you. If I had known, I would've come." Italy said nothing, though he wanted to do many things. He wanted to scream at Germany for not saving him. He wanted to attack the German, and he would've by now if it weren't for his strait jacket. He wanted to cry and be held by his friend, like all the other times Italy had been scared. But he did none of those things. He simply sat, unmoving, unblinking, staring into the wall across from him.

_Nearly two hours had passed since England had locked Italy in the room, and said Italian was on the verge of panic. Where was Germany? Had he forgotten about him? Maybe he was tired of having to save Italy every other day. Maybe he was glad the Italian boy was gone. Italy sat, his eyes puffy from his crying fit earlier. He wanted Germany there. He wanted to be let go. He wanted to go home. After overhearing bits of England's phone conversation with America and the others, it was clear what his fate was. They had decided he needed to put to death. It was there, waiting for his execution, that Italy decided something. He had been acting like a child this whole time. Maybe if he hadn't had the mind of a kid, he wouldn't have gotten himself into this mess in the first place. He decided it was his own fault that if he hadn't been acting like a child, he wouldn't be sitting, handcuffed to a table waiting to be killed by the allies. Maybe he would be able to survive if he stopped acting like a helpless child, a baby with a man's body. That was when something in his mind snapped, or perhaps, something clicked._

"Italy, I'm so sorry." Germany said, holding his head in his hands. "I didn't want anything like this to happen. I should've known." Again, Italy did nothing; he just kept staring into the padded wall. He didn't want to talk, especially not to the man sitting next to him.

_Italy looked down at his cuffed hands, trying to figure out a way to get out of them. He tried pulling his hands out, pulling the cuffs off of the table, he even tried flipping the table over, which failed miserably. He was about to give up when he discovered that in his struggles, he had loosened one of the bolts that was keeping his hands on the table. It took a while, but he managed to get the bolt completely out. He slid the chain between the cuffs under the gap between the table and the loop keeping the chain from coming off of it. The door was locked from the outside, though, thanks to an incident from childhood where he was accidentally locked in a closet, he managed to get out of the room in less than five minutes. After wandering around for a few minutes, Italy found the keys to his handcuffs hanging on the wall. Once he had them off, he set off to find England. They needed to have a word._

"I don't get how you can stand it in here. I think I'd go crazy spending one night in here." Germany chuckled and looked over at Italy. "Italy, are you still in there?" Germany sighed and gave up on talking for a minute.

_Blood. It was everywhere. It was in the cup of tea England was drinking, it was all over the walls, it covered the freshly cleaned carpet, and it covered Italy. He was panting, looking down at England, who lay dead below him. The look of shock plastered on the corpses face made Italy laugh, but why it did, the brown-haired nation wasn't sure. He got up and walked out of England's home, knowing where he was going next. It wasn't long before he reached Germany's house. He waited a minute before his 'friend' opened the door._

_"Italy! What are you…how did…is that your blood?" Germany stuttered, not able to process what was standing on his front porch._

_"I was at England's house. He kidnapped me, but you didn't come to get me. You don't have to worry, though. I took care of him for you." Italy said, smiling._

_"Italy," Germany whispered, his face full of concern. That was when they heard sirens from down the street. The blond nation met Italy's eyes before closing the door, retreating back into his house._

_"Dudes, that's him!" the unmistakable voice of America shouted. Four men in white coats walked up to Italy, telling him that he needed to go to an asylum. They told him it would help "heal his unstable mind." Italy wasn't going to go willingly, though. When the men tried to get him to come with them, the country ended up giving one of the men a broken nose and gave another a nice bruise on the cheek. They ended up having to drag him screaming into the van, the Allies watching silently. As soon as they got to the asylum, the man with the broken nose was sent off to see a doctor while some of the other men in white coats put Italy in a strait jacket and locked him in his cell. That is why Italy is there now. _

"God Italy, I'm so sorry." Germany said for the umpteenth time.

"Stop apologizing," Italy whispered. His voice was horse and sad. It sounded nothing like the voice everyone put with little happy-go-lucky Italy.

"Italy," Germany whispered back. He sounded like he was about to cry. He was the reason Italy was in here, and he wasn't allowed to apologize.

"It's your fault I'm in here, you know." Italy said in his dead voice.

"I know, and I'm sorry." Germany replied, not meeting the Italians eyes.

"Stop apologizing!" Italy shouted, causing his door to open.

"Mr. Beilschmidt, I think it'd be best if you leave now." The guard who was just outside of the cell ordered. Germany took one last look at Italy before getting up.

"It's your fault. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be in here. Maybe if you weren't so concerned about yourself, you could've gotten me. You created this monster! I hope you're happy!" Italy shouted to Germany, earning a threat from the guard. Italy didn't care. They could threaten him all he wanted. He kept shouting at Germany until he heard the footsteps of his friend disappear. It was then that he allowed himself to cry. He brought his head down to the floor and sobbed hysterically. It took at least ten minutes for him to calm down. Once he was done crying, he whispered to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Germany."

**AN: **SO this is a snapped!Italy thing I started and uploaded to DeviantArt last year and I figured, hey! I like this story so why don't I put it on FF? This is gonna have more than one chapter so...yeah.

And to the people waiting for the next chapter of In Love With Cupid: have I already given up and abandoned it? No! Do I plan to abandon it? No! Am I simply taking a break from it until I get inspiration for the next chapter? Yes! Stay patient, young grasshoppers.


	2. Chapter 2

APH: Waiting To Death

Part 2

Nearly a week had passed since Germany had visited Italy. He didn't want to go back to the asylum where his friend was locked up. Germany feared if he did, Italy would completely snap. He continued living as normally as possible, trying to forget the Italian that had become such an important role in his life. Germany succeeded in going about normally for a while. If any changes were there, they were only noticed by those close to him. Thanks to Italy's absence from training, Japan was worked twice as hard as when the Italian was still there. Germany created a tougher training schedule as well, causing them both to have little time to spend with their friends. At world meetings, Germany would always be either silent or loud and easily angered by the bickering between the other countries. He also became easily annoyed by his brother. Well, more easily than before. Prussia had moved back into Germany's basement without making sure it was okay with his brother which resulted in an argument that lasted a good two days. Prussia would often come back from the bar with the other two members of the Bad Touch Trio, all three completely shitfaced. This was something that Germany was usually used to, but recently, he would sit upstairs listening to their loud drunken conversations, resisting every urge to go downstairs, beat the crap out of the three, and throw them on the side of a road. Again, just little changes. That is, until he got a phone call from the asylum.

"Hello?" Germany asked after the second ring.

"Hello, is this Ludwig? Feliciano's friend?" A male voice from the other end asked.

"Yes, who is this?" Germany replied.

"This is the asylum." The man said.

"And why are you calling me?" This came out a little harsher than intended and there was a moment of hesitation before the man from the asylum spoke again.

"Feliciano hasn't eaten anything since you visited last week."

"What? Why?" Germany practically yelled, causing his brother to look over from his spot on the couch.

"He said he won't eat unless he got to see you again." The man answered almost timidly.

"And you waited this long to tell me?!" Now Germany was shouting.

"We…we weren't sure Feliciano would be able to see you again after last week." Germany bit his bottom lip remembering the shouts that had followed him down the hall as he left his only real friend to rot in his cell.

"So? He could die, you idiot!" Germany roared into the phone.

"We know. That's why we need you to come over here. We don't really like it when our patients die, especially when it's something like this." The man said calmly.

"I'll be there in ten minutes." Germany said, barley hearing the man's thank you as he hung up the phone.

"What was that all about?" Prussia asked as Germany practically sprinted across the room to get his coat.

"I'm going to see Italy." Germany said, rushing out the door with his coat barely on.

Germany arrived at the asylum fifteen minutes later, a traffic jam putting him back a little. It took every shred of dignity he had to not run up to the plain white building. Once he had explained the situation to the receptionist at the desk, the man who had called him led Germany to Italy's cell. The man opened the door slightly, barely giving Germany enough room to squeeze through into the room. Italy had his back to the door, not even noticing the door opening. The small nation sat with his legs pulled up to his chest, though with the straightjacket on, he couldn't wrap his arms around them. Instead, Italy had just rested his head on his knees. The door slammed shut and Germany walked over to where Italy was and sat down next to him.

"So, I heard you haven't been eating." Germany said, looking out of the corner of his eye at Italy. He saw the brown-haired nation's eyes widen before turning his head to look at Germany.

"Germany!" Italy shouted, leaning on his friend's arm doing the best hug he could, considering his arms were bound by the straightjacket. "I missed you." Germany smiled and wrapped his arms around the smaller nation, pulling Italy's back onto his chest.

"Is that why you weren't eating?" Italy was silent a moment before replying.

"Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't."

"Italy," Germany said, looking down at his friend.

"Why is it that much of a big deal?" Italy asked, looking at his feet.

"Well, Italy, if you don't eat enough, you could die, and no one would want that." The cell was silent for a minute. The two just sat in silence, not thinking about doing anything. All either of them really wanted to do was stay like that forever, Germany's arms wrapped around Italy, just sitting there.

"Germany?" Italy broke the silence.

"Hm?"

"Do you think you could get me out of here?" Silence fell between them again.

"I don't know. It really depends on a lot of things." Germany finally answered.

"Can you try?" Italy asked, looking up at his friend. It was obvious Italy wasn't sleeping, either. He had dark bags under his eyes and his eyelids were drooping ever so slightly. Before Germany could say anything else, the door opened.

"Mr. Beilschmidt, visiting hours are over now. You should get home." The man in the doorway said. Reluctantly, Germany let go of Italy and stood up.

"Bye, Italy. I'll visit you again, and make sure you eat while I'm gone this time." When he didn't get a response, Germany turned and walked out of the cell, the door slamming shut behind him. Just as the footsteps were beginning to disappear down the hall, Italy whispered, "You better get me out of here, Germany."

**AN: **So that is that...yeah...So, um, I don't know what to say...*is running on three hours of sleep* Oh wait, I do have something. Alright, so if anyone is going to Animazement this year, it'd be awesome if you could tell me :3 I'm going as Rena from Higirashi and some pictures should be on my DeviantArt account (Akatsukigirl99) soon so if you are going, give me a hug if you see me. Okay, okay. Cool.

By the way, I love reviews. They make me upload faster...just, you know, throwing that out there.


	3. Chapter 3

APH: Waiting to Death

Part 3

Germany and Gilbert sat on their couch watching a game show of all things. Just as they were about to find out if the price was right or wrong, the show was interrupted by a news broadcaster.

"We interrupt your program to bring you an important announcement. One hour ago, a patient at the City of Hetalia Mental Asylum escaped. The patient is Feliciano Vargas, the person responsible for the death of Arthur Kirkland."

At this, a picture of Italy filled up the screen.

"If you see this person, call the asylum immediately. He's violent and his mentally ill. You can reach the asylum at-"Germany didn't hear the rest of the announcement, though. All he could think was that Italy had managed to escape. Did that mean he was heading to his house? What if he showed up while the full Bad Touch Trio was here, or while he was being questioned by one of the doctors? His mind was plagued with these thoughts. Germany didn't snap out of it until he felt something hit the side of his head.

"West, are you in there?" Prussia asked, reaching for another pillow to throw at Germany.

"Did you say something, bruder?" Germany asked, looking over at his brother.

"You okay?" Prussia asked, knowing how un-awesome it sounded.

"Yeah, I'm just a little tired. I think I'm going to lie down." Germany lied. He got up and headed to his room, leaving his brother sitting on the couch, pillow still in hand.

Prussia was in his room in the basement when there came a knock on the door. Germany practically jumped when he heard it. He attempted to look calm as he opened the door, but failed once he saw who was on the other side of it.

"I-Italy," He barely had time to whisper before the brown-haired nation ran past him and into the German's home.

"Shut the door!" Italy whisper-shouted, snapping Germany out of the trance he was sliding into. As soon as the door was shut, Italy rushed over, locking all three of the locks that were on the door. Once his task was done, Italy turned to face Germany and threw his arms around his friend, causing the blue-eyed nation to nearly go into shock. Finally, Germany wrapped his arms around the Italian, hugging his friend back. After a moment went by, Germany let go of Italy and just looked at his friend.

"How did you get out?" Germany finally managed to get out. Italy looked down for a minute, not answering Germany's question. Just as the Italian's mouth opened, a voice from behind the small nation was heard.

"Oi West, I heard some commotion up here. Is everythi-"Prussia stopped talking once he caught sight of Italy. "Well, this is awkward."

The next day at a World Meeting, every seat was full but Italy and England's. No one exactly knew why, but Germany and Prussia seemed a little quieter, and, in Germany's case, a little moodier than usual.

"All right dudes, I'm guessing you're all aware that Italy got out of the asylum." Everyone nodded. "Cool. So, today we're gonna go over what you should do if you see him. First, if you see him, make sure you-"Suddenly, America stopped talking and just stared at the doorway in shock. The other nations were confused and followed America's gaze, the same expression of shock plastered on all of their faces.

"Hello everyone, sorry I'm late." England said from the doorway. "Why are you all staring at me like that?"

**AN:** Sorry for the wait. I just moved and I was away from the computer this weekend. DON'T KILL ME! So now Italy is out of the asylum and England is...alive? Wait, what? But how? Don't ask me...yet...

ANYWAY, I was at Animazement on Friday and Saturday and let me just say, it was AWESOME! I am now the proud owner of an America and an England plushie. I also hugged every Canada I saw. Am I playing favorites? Of course not! Hahaha...well anyway, I was cosplayed as Rena from Higurashi and was a co-host in the horror panel on Friday so, if you saw me, tell me, 'kay? Oh yeah, I now have Rainbow Dash headphones. FUCK YEAH!

Reviews make me type faster...just, you know, throwing that out there...


	4. Chapter 4

APH: Waiting to Death

Part 4

England ran down the hallway, attempting to get to the conference hall where the rest of the world sat, probably wondering where he went. He had managed to sleep until noon, only 15 minutes before the

World meeting began. That was far from enough time to be there before the meeting began. So that was how England ended up racing down the halls at 12:30, hoping his absence wouldn't make that much of a difference. He finally reached the double doors that he should've walked through fifteen minutes ago and threw them open, leaning against one of them to catch his breath. Had he not been so focused on refilling his lungs with air he would've noticed the silence that fell over the room. Finally he looked up and threw everyone an apologetic smile.

"Hello everyone, I'm sorry I'm late." No one moved or spoke, all eyes fixed on the nation in the doorway. "Why are you all staring at me like that?" England walked to his chair and sat, trying to ignore the stares of the others in the room. Finally, the silence was broken.

"Dude, how are you here?" America asked, snapping everyone out of their trance.

"What do you mean? I'm just late, right?" England was beyond confused now. Was this just some trick they were playing on him?

"No, you were-"America was cut off by a hand being placed on his shoulder. The owner of the hand, Canada, whispered something into his brother's ear, not that he needed to whisper. "Oh, right." Just as England was about to ask, America turned to look at him. "Hey, can you go outside for a sec?"

"S-sure," England left the room, the gazes of the others on his back. Once the door was shut, the talking resumed. Everyone was asking everyone about something. Some even wondered if England really had been dead.

"So America, what did Canada tell you?" France asked causing everyone to go quiet.

"He said…alright, what if England doesn't know he, you know, died?" A few glances were exchanged.

"T-That's impossible. You can't come back from the dead." Germany said, still trying to wrap his head around things.

"I dunno dude. Unless that wasn't really Britain, apparently you can." America replied. This was starting to sound like a set up to one of the horror movies he loved to watch. "If it really is him, he didn't know why we were all freaked out. I say he just doesn't know he's dead."

"Alright, let's say you're right and people can come back from the dead. What are we going to do about it?" France asked.

"Right now, we just let it go. Maybe he doesn't have to know he's dead?" A few sighs were heard.

"Then how will we explain the situation with Italy?" France countered.

"Crap. I guess someone should come up with something for now. We should tell him later though, you know, just to be safe." America suggested. Apparently everyone was good with that.

"Alright. Now, if we leave him out there any longer I think he'll suspect something." France stood and walked to the door to let England back in. There was another brief moment of silence as everyone watched England reenter the room before said nation spoke up.

"Where's Italy?" the absence of the hyperactive nation hadn't been noticed until now, at least on England's part. A few glances were exchanged.

"The dude, um, he ate too much pasta and felt sick. He wanted to skip today." America hastily made up a lie, hoping it would be enough to convince the 'zombie' nation.

"I thought nations could only get sick if they were in debt or something like that?" England asked, earning a nervous chuckle from America.

"I guess they can even if they aren't in trouble." France quickly butted it, shooting America a glare.

"Alright, so what have I missed?" England asked.

"Um, actually we were just ending the meeting now." America glanced at all the other countries in the room, practically begging them to go along with it.

"Ja, meeting adjourned," Germany announced, sounding a little confused. The countries began filing out of the room, some shooting nervous glances at England. America was about to leave when he felt someone grab his arm and spin him around.

"I-Iggy, what's up?" he asked.

"What aren't you telling me?" England asked, wasting no time in getting to the point.

"W-what do you mean? I told you everything." America answered, hoping once again that England wouldn't see through him.

"I know when you look like when you keep secrets, America." America inwardly groaned.

"Hero's don't lie." America said as if that would make it all better.

"I never said you were lying. All I said was that you're keeping something from me." Damn, he won't let this go, will he? America thought.

"Dude, seriously, I told you everything. Trust me."

"Alright, fine, I believe you. But don't blame me when I find out what you're keeping from me." England sighed, walking away. Once he was gone, America let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and followed the Brit out of the room.

Germany arrived at his home, immediately knowing his brother wasn't there due to the lack of comments about awesomeness. Instead, he was greeted with the familiar sound of Italy humming to himself in the kitchen. He entered the room to find the Italy draining a bowl of, what else, pasta.

"Germany, your back!" Italy grinned at his friend and held up the pasta. "I made some pasta. You want some?" For a second, everything was back to the way it was before, completely normal, nothing crazy going on. Then Germany remembered he was hiding his friend who had escaped a mental asylum of all things who was still wanted AND the man he had gone there for killing had apparently come back from the dead. There goes normal.

"Sure," Germany said even though he wasn't really hungry. Even though it sounded absolutely ridiculous, there was something in Italy's eyes that terrified him. The fact that the Italian had his eyes open at all was scary.

"Okay!" Italy smiled and put the pasta down to pull Germany into a hug.

England sat in his house in front of his T.V. not really paying attention as he flipped through the channels. His mind was still miles away, trying to figure out what had happened to him. He remembered kidnapping Italy and talking with the allies about what to do with him. After that…he was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard his name mentioned on the channel he had just passed. He quickly flipped back to find a reporter interviewing a young girl who looked like she had seen a ghost.

"…looked just like him. He even had the bushy eyebrows. I swear, it was him!" The girl said franticly.

"And you're absolutely sure it was him?" The reporter asked.

"One hundred percent," the girl answered.

"Alright, thank you for your time. Now back to the studio with Linda." The reporter was gone and in her place was another female reporter sitting at a desk.

"Thanks Erica. There you have it, the fifth eye-witness account of seeing the supposedly deceased Arthur Kirkland. In that same topic, Feliciano Vargas has not yet been found. We remind you that he is mentally unstable and potentially dangerous. If he is spotted, once again, contact the asylum immediately." Arthur turned off the T.V, trying to understand what he had just heard. Apparently, he was dead and Italy was supposed to be in an asylum. He stood and headed out of his house to see a certain American who had some explaining to do.

Germany sat with Italy on the couch watching some random show that he didn't even know the title of, occasionally glancing at the brunette. He hadn't bothered to tell Italy that England was alive, fearing that would spark another breakdown or whatever it was that Italy had had. He felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out, only a little concerned that his brother had taken the time to text him.

_Prussia: Hey West, the awesome me isn't going to be home until tomorrow. I'm staying over at birdies, if you know what I mean ;)_

_Germany: I didn't need to know that. You could've just left it at "I won't be home tonight."_

_Prussia: Whatever, you're just jealous that you can't get any _

_Germany: You're disgusting. Now leave me alone._

Germany ignored his brother trying to remember who "Birdie" was. Wasn't it America's brother? Canadia or something? Oh well. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he didn't even notice Italy had changed the channel. That is, until he started shaking.

"I-Italy? What's wrong?" Germany began to reach a hand out to put on Italy's shoulder but decided against it.

"He's still alive. I went to that place for nothing." Italy growled, his voice lacking the happiness it had mere minutes ago.

"Who?" Germany asked though he had a pretty good guess.

"England," Italy stood and began to walk away.

"Wait, where are you going?" Germany stood as well and watched Italy walk towards the door.

"I'm going to make sure he stays dead this time." Italy walked out of the house, leaving Germany standing by the couch staring at the door. He was pulled out of his trance when he heard a car engine start. Prussia was at Canada's house so his car had to be gone, leaving only his own.

"Shit!" he hissed before rushing out of the house to find Italy already driving down the road. "Shit!" Germany, doing the only thing he thought of, followed the car that was already disappearing from his sight.

England pulled up to the front of America's house and got out of his car, trying to figure out what to say to the man. He couldn't just say "I found out I was dead and you are an asshole," even if he really wanted to say it. Sighing, he rang the doorbell to find a relatively disheveled America who looked like he had just woken up.

"England, what're you doing here?" America asked with a yawn. It wasn't that late but after everything that had happened that day, America felt he deserved a rest.

"We need to talk."

**AN: **Aaaaand there you have it. Italy found out England is still alive, England is going to rant at America for a day and a half, and Prussia is getting it on with Canada. Long story short: shit will go DOWN! So yeah...that's it...

Reviews make me happy :3 Just saying...


	5. Chapter 5

APH: Waiting to Death

Part 5

_"England, what're you doing here?" America asked with a yawn. It wasn't that late but after everything that had happened that day, America felt he deserved a rest._

_"We need to talk." _

Five minutes later America and England sat on America's overstuffed couch in a semi-awkward silence. America was beginning to wonder if England actually had a reason for coming over here and was about to kick him out when said nation began to speak.

"You could've just told me you know." England said, confusing America.

"Told you what?" The loud nation asked innocently though he had a guess. Hopefully it was wrong.

"What you didn't want to tell me at the meeting today. I was going to figure it out at some point." It took America a few seconds to figure out what England was talking about before he remembered. They hadn't told England…

"Oh, so you know." It was more of a statement than a question. America was mentally kicking himself. He hadn't actually planned for England to find it out on his own.

"So why didn't you tell me?" England asked.

"Well, I guess I thought you were gonna snap or die again or something if you knew what happened." America explained. He had just assumed something tragic would happen if England found out he had died.

"That's ridiculous." England chuckled a little. "Even if something like that were to happen, I doubt it'd be because I knew I had died."

"…What?" Now America was really confused.

"I probably wouldn't have died again or whatever else you were thinking would happen if I just knew I had died. If I had been in the same room as the person who had actually killed me though, then whatever you were thinking of may have happened." England explained. It took America a few seconds to understand where the man was coming from with this.

"Okay, I kinda get it." America shifted a little in his seat before asking: "So, do you know who, um, killed you?"

After a brief pause, England spoke. "I think I heard that it was Italy."

"Yeah. Kinda weird, right?" America said with a half-hearted chuckle.

"I guess it is."

Italy stood in the kitchen of England's house, a look of absolute rage on his face. He had checked every room at least twice. The nation wasn't there. Italy clenched his fists, trying to think of where England could've gone. He was pulled out of his thoughts when he heard the door open.

"Italy?" It was Germany. Italy couldn't help but frown. "Italy, I know you're in here. My car is in the front of the house." Italy swore under his breath. He just had to leave the car somewhere obvious.

"Italy, come out." Germany ordered. He was met with only silence. "Someone is going to notice the car. You have to leave before someone finds you. You'd have to go back to the asylum if they found you here." Italy turned a little at the sound of footsteps coming towards him. He looked around franticly, trying to find a way out. He had come here to make sure England stayed dead and he wasn't going back to Germany until he made sure he did just that. Italy looked around once more when his eyes fell on England's back door. It was on the other side of the room which meant Germany would see him. Right now, that was the last thing he wanted. Italy squeezed his eyes shut before leaving his hiding spot and sprinting to the door. He managed to reach it moments before Germany entered the room he had just been in. Italy ran out of the house, still thinking of where England was. He ran into the night that had fallen, followed by the shouts of Germany. He had to stop to catch his breath a few minutes later, not sure exactly where he was. He looked up after a moment and heard someone laugh not too far from where he stood. He knew that laugh. He had heard it at enough world meetings to be able to recognize it immediately. Italy smirked a little. He knew exactly where England was now. He made a mental note to thank America for being so loud. The nation began to walk towards where the laughter had come from. A few minutes later he stood in the yard of America's home, a smirk on his face. He chuckled a little as he walked towards the front door and tested it. America had left it unlocked making it almost too easy for Italy to slip inside the house. Italy stood just outside of the room the two nations were in hesitating before he went in. America was in the room as well, making the situation a little worse for Italy. He heard someone get up and froze, hoping it wasn't America.

"Well, I guess I may as well get home. Goodbye America." Italy sighed in relief, glad it was England.

"Huh? Oh yeah, see ya later." Italy was practically shaking with anticipation as he heard footsteps grow closer to him. England stepped out of the room and Italy lost any control he once had, his vision going red. He ran out of his hiding place and shoved England into the wall opposite of him, grabbing him around the throat before the shocked nation could react. Italy barley heard America shout as he stood up and rushed over to the two. The brown eyed nation tightened his grip on England's throat, an evil grin spreading across his face. England struggled desperately to get out of the Italian's grip but found he wasn't able to. Had Italy always been that strong? England's vision was beginning to go black. The only thing he was able to really focus on was Italy's grin. Italy knew the blonde wasn't going to last much longer, encouraging him to tighten his grip on England's neck. He was so focused on his task that he didn't notice America reaching for something inside his jacket. That is, until Italy felt cool metal against his temple. America had made a personal rule to make sure to have a gun with him at all times after Italy snapped, just in case anyone else followed. For the first time since he started that habit, he was glad he did so.

"Let him go." America demanded, hoping his voice wasn't betraying the fact that he was shaking inside. Italy began to laugh, turning his face towards America so the gun's barrel was against his forehead.

"Go ahead. Kill me."

**AN: **HOLY SHIT! Someone hold me! WHAT?! So now Italy is about to kill England and America has a gun on Italy's forehead...and Prussia is still getting it on with Canada (they are taking forever!)

Review please :3


	6. Chapter 6: final chapter

APH: Waiting to Death

(Please read the AN. It has some very important stuff. Just saying...)

Part 6: final chapter

"Go ahead. Kill me."

A silence fell over the room. Italy smirked, watching a look of shock and confusion fall on America's face. It seemed as if the nation had gone into a trance. He was brought out of it when a weak gasp came from England. America looked from one to the other for a second, having an inner war with himself. He wanted to be the hero and save England but if that meant killing Italy… Slowly, America lowered the gun, glancing from one nation to the other.

"I won't."

Italy laughed at this, tightening his grip on England a little more. It was shocking that the man was still alive.

"You think I'll stop because you didn't kill me?" Before anyone could say or do anything, the front door flew open.

"Feliciano Vargas, we know you are here! Come out now!"

Italy's eyes widened at the voice. He knew that voice. That voice had taken him to the asylum when he snapped. Suddenly, Italy forgot about his task. He let go of England, the unconscious body falling to the ground with a thud. He ran in the other direction, trying to find a way to get away from the men trying to take him back to that horrible place. He heard footsteps following him. He could hear a couple of voices telling him to stop. Italy looked around frantically. Retreating was his specialty so why couldn't he find a way out now? If he went to that place, he'd actually go crazy. His eyes fell on a small window beside one of the men. He took a breath and ran toward it, barley avoiding being grabbed by the men. He jumped through it, not registering the cuts the glass left on his body, ignoring the shouts of the men behind him. He began to run, silently thanking Germany for forcing him to do so much training. His mind paused at the blonde. His steps almost faltered as he began to think about his friend. What would he think when he learned Italy was on the run again? Would Germany look for him or just forget Italy had ever existed? Italy shook his head, trying to get those thoughts out of his head. All he was focused on was running far and fast away from there. He didn't care where he went; he just needed to be gone.

It had been almost a year since Italy had disappeared. Germany sat on the couch with Prussia. The older insisted on being with Germany all hours of the day just in case he decided to run away to find Italy. At first, that was a big concern of practically everyone's. Germany had sat staring at nothing, mumbling something about needing to find Italy. He didn't even bother to visit England who Italy had put on the hospital for about a week. The German barely left his home for nearly a month. Recently he was getting better. The other nations had an unspoken agreement to not bring up Italy around Germany just in case he went back to the way he had been. Italy had only been mentioned in the news and such a couple of times after the first month or so. Even then it was just the odd "Feliciano is still free," among other things. That may have been part of the reason Prussia had settled on watching the news. The albino's brother still left the house only to train and go to world meetings so he had to have some sort of way to stay up to date with the rest of the world. That was definitely a mistake. At the moment, a young blonde reporter was talking with what seemed to be a FBI agent or something of that nature.

"As you were saying, you have an announcement about escaped mental patient Feliciano Vargas, is that correct?" The woman asked, shoving her microphone in the man's face.

"Yes. We've been looking for the man for nearly a year and nothing has popped up. The only clue we've had so far was at the beginning when we had blood to follow, that being meant literally of course. Recently though, we received a call saying a man saw a man who was bruised and was covered in bleeding cuts. He claimed he looked exactly like Feliciano. After having him describe the man to us, we could confirm the man was Feliciano. We can only assume one thing." The man said, followed by a small gasp from the reporter.

"Is that what your announcement was?" the reporter asked.

"Yes. As of now, Feliciano Vargas is dead."

For the first time since he was younger, Germany began to cry.

The funeral was two weeks after the announcement was made. The coffin was empty. They were never able to locate the body. The only things filling the coffin were pictures of happier times when Italy still wore a smile along with something from nearly every nation. Even England had placed something next to one of the pictures. Germany walked up to the empty coffin, staring down at where the nation wasn't. He looked at each of the pictures, knowing exactly when each of them was taken. Italy with Japan and Germany shortly after they formed an alliance, Italy with a rather angry looking Romano mere moments before Spain came to drag Romano away, Italy and Germany a few days after they promised to always be friends… The blonde turned away, wiping his dampening eyes with the back of his hand. He dropped his hand and, for a second, he could see Italy bouncing towards him, a wide smile on his face. Germany blinked to find the smile gone and let a silent tear slide down his cheek. Even if Italy wasn't dead, he was gone forever.

Germany walked into the graveyard, a small flower in his hand. It had been a year since the funeral. Most of the nations had gotten over it as best they could. Romano had taken responsibility for filling in for his brother. Life had gone on, at least, for most people. When Germany reached the grave he was looking for, he found Romano crouched in front of it, his face buried in his hands. Though his back was to Germany, it was obvious Romano was crying. The nation's head shot up at the sound of footsteps and he stood, wiping his eyes as he did so. Germany waited for the string of insults to come his way, expecting something ridiculous about sneaking up on unsuspecting people in the middle of a graveyard. Instead, Romano simply walked past Germany, not even giving the man a glare. Germany watched as the Italian left the place, his steps a lot slower than usual. It almost seemed that with Italy gone, a part of Romano had been taken as well. The German turned around and knelt before the headstone, placing the flower in front of it. He reached out and touched the cold stone with his hand, tracing over the name with his fingers. It was his human name. After all, people would get suspicious if a gravestone said Italy. Even if it was just a name given by his boss, it was a part of Italy. It was the only thing other than a few pictures Germany had left of Italy.

"Italy, I'm sorry. I should've told you. I should've come to get you when you were captured." Germany let out a mix of a sob and a chuckle at this. "Seems like that was ages ago, doesn't it? I just wish I could do something. I just can't believe you're gone. Wherever you are Italy, ich leibe dich." Germany sat there for another minute, doing everything in his power to stop himself from crying. He'd been doing enough of that recently. He barely noticed a pair of footsteps come up to him and stop. That is, until he heard the person's voice.

"Germany, what are you doing in the middle of a graveyard?" The blondes head shot up, his eyes widening in shock. Germany stood and turned around, his breath catching in his throat. It couldn't be…

"I-Italy?" Germany blinked a few times. The man didn't disappear. He wasn't imagining this. Without thinking, the blonde wrapped his arms around Italy, breathing in the familiar scent of Italian food Italy had, completely unaware of how much he had missed such a simple thing. "How are you…I, we, thought you were dead."

Italy laughed a little before explaining. "I didn't die. I got a few cuts but that's it. I just hid for a while until I knew people wouldn't keep looking for me." Germany felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips. Before long, the smile was gone.

"Italy, you aren't still, um, are you still-"

"Are you talking about England?" Italy asked, pulling back from his friend. Germany nodded. "Don't worry. I'm better now. I promise I'm not still mad at him and I definitely won't go crazy again." Italy flashed Germany a wide smile. "Alright, now let's go! I want to make you some pasta!"

Italy bounced off in front of Germany, leaving the confused nation to follow him. Italy stopped smiling for a second, glaring at nothing before feeling a borderline-crazy grin spread across his face. He was still beyond furious with England. The man hadn't stayed dead and when Italy had tried to remedy that, he was interrupted by a certain loud American. Italy was still mad, now at both England and America. He wanted nothing more but to kill them. He had to wait though. He just came back from the dead after all. He would wait until things went back to the way they were before snapping again, as they would put it. Italy bounced towards Germany's house, wondering what would happen if you killed a nation twice…

**AN: **SO that was the crazy adventure of Waiting to Death. Enjoyed it? If so then I am glad to tell you that there WILL be a sequel! I'm working on it now and it's called My Own Hell (the title totally is not a 5FDP song...what are you talking about?) and it's basically what happens after this. Fair warning, the sequel will have yaoi in it so if that's not your thing...yeah...

It might be a while until the sequel comes out so in the meantime, be on the lookout for more USUK fics, AmeCan, AppleDash, and PewdieCry stuff.

In other news, I came out of the closet to my parents today. They took it rather well and my dad even said he'd give me pointers on how to pick up girls...yeah, not awkward at all...

So, as always, my DeviantArt is Akatsukigirl99 and I love watchers. Please review and I hope you liked it :3


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